I was just minding my own business and then a wild Kisuke appeared ! I swear it's his fault for being such a good character. I like how ambiguous he is about ethics and morals. Also Ichigo is dead inside.
English is still not my mother language, please be kind !
Chapter II – Dead Men tell no tale
Ichigo sheathed his two swords back inside their scabbards. They were both on his right side, despite his ambidextrous tendencies which, Kisuke could admit, was a good idea to confuse enemies. But that wasn't the actual puzzling fact about his protegee. Kurosaki Ichigo for all he had of training, seemed to have inherited either the good genes of the Shiba Clan or an incredible fast learning ability. Whatever the case was, it was clear that something else was amiss. Amidst the nightmares he first attributed to the recent happenings, he had heard frightened whispers of names and places that the tortured soul couldn't have known without prior knowledge of the Soul Society.
Betrayed by his own mind when under Morpheus embrace, the young man had said more while recuperating from his last session than he probably should have, and yet, had kept under lock and key anything that could let him ask a question concerning those specific informations. Kisuke had the impression to be looking at a being that had only of Kurosaki Ichigo the name. The silly attitude and the rather brash acting were gone, along with his permanent signature scowl that would have put to shame Byakuya's own. Urahara was at a loss. Was this the result of his failure to save Rukia ? Did he felt so much responsibilities when he barely knew how to use his own capacities ?
His Reaitsu was a curling beast. Not the way Kenpachi was. It was vicious and dying, like an animal waiting for the right moment to strike true before lying himself to rest. If Zaraki was but pure instinct and power, this was precision, death with the thinnest of action required. It was primal fear, condensed and compacted, as if he hadn't know how to suppress it and instead, tried to learn with the little facts he had at the time. The raw power was immense, more so, that it should be at this point. Ichigo hasn't yet known of the Hollow true nature nor of his Quincy powers, yet he acted as if it had no importance whatsoever nor did he seemed interested in going in depths of his inner-world or to meditate to familiarise himself with his new weapon.
When not actively training or resting, his time was spent either lazily staring at the fire, reading Shakespeare books or playing with the ribbons tied around one of the scabbard of his Zanpakutō. It was white and green, a sharp contrast with the grieving shape of his shoulders, the mourning and longing shape on his brows as he looks out the window with irises of burning cinders, dampened by a flood of no known proportion. It was, he noticed the same color scheme than that of his bob hat, down the stripes and textile to the touch. The second one had two little bells tied around it, they were tinting tenderly, with a sound of grief and warm tea. At each step taken, they would ring with the smell of damp earth and sodden forest ground in a morning fog.
If Kisuke hadn't left his own soul down the gutter a long time ago, he would have bawled his own eyes out for hours on end. The way Yoruichi would stare in the dark when she believed the young boy wasn't paying attention could tell the shopkeeper all he needed to know about that. Urahara felt like he shouldn't feel the necessity to share that strange weight, not his nor that of the cat. Yet he couldn't help but burden himself with the knowledge that he was responsible for half the mess Ichigo had become and let himself agonized over the fact, even if he truly hated himself for it.